LITMIR.BIZ

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realized where she was headed.

      “What if I were to do the repairs to your garage,” he asked, earning himself a wide grin from his elderly champion. “And I’ll move out there as soon as possible.” He’d worry about what he was actually getting into after he closed the deal.

      Pauline’s pretty hazel eyes widened. “Do you have remodeling experience?”

      “Absolutely,” he replied, his knotted muscles starting to loosen as he sensed her imminent capitulation. “I restored my first house in San Francisco.” No need to add that he’d contracted out the plumbing and electrical work. What he didn’t know, he’d find out.

      Pauline threw up her hands in obvious resignation. “All right, you’ve got a deal. Maybe no one will notice that you’re here.”

      Chapter Two

      Pauline led her very first male boarder up the curved staircase to the second floor of her house, his solid tread thudding on the steps behind her as he toted his luggage. She could practically feel his gaze on her back, right between her shoulder blades.

      If not lower.

      Silently she reminded herself that she was a worldly woman of thirty-four, not an impressionable teenager. Even so, she couldn’t remember the last time she had been so aware of a man’s presence.

      “That’s a beautiful window,” Wade said, glancing up when they reached the landing. “Is it original?”

      “As far as I know.” Pauline gazed fondly at one of her favorite features in the house, a round stained-glass image of a peacock. The jewel tones of the bird’s intricately worked tail feathers glowed softly in the dying light from the sun.

      Even though he had insisted that it wasn’t necessary, pride wouldn’t allow her to give him rooms that weren’t spotless. She had whirled through the master suite with a vacuum cleaner and a dust cloth while Dolly had fed him a bowl of stew.

      “You’ll be here at the end,” she said over her shoulder as they walked down the carpeted hallway. “There’s a private sitting area as well as the bathroom Dolly mentioned.”

      “Have you owned the house for very long?” he asked.

      Everyone in town knew Pauline’s history. “I’m the fourth generation to live here,” she explained, pausing. “My great-grandfather renamed it Mayfield Manor.”

      “It must be satisfying to have such a legacy,” he remarked.

      “I suppose. But growing up in a small town also has its disadvantages.” She opened the double doors and stepped aside.

      “Didn’t get away with much, huh?” he teased with a wink as he walked past her.

      “You could say that,” she murmured, following him inside.

      While she brushed a fleck of dust from the top of the tall dresser, he dropped his bags on the faded Persian rug next to the wide bed. Even though the burgundy draperies were open, she switched on the hanging teardrop lamp so the light shining through the blown-glass globe would add a rosy glow to the room.

      “Wow,” he said as he looked around. “I didn’t expect anything like this.”

      Pauline wasn’t entirely sure that his comment was positive. This had been her parents’ private sanctuary, and she liked the traditional way her mother had redecorated it in shades of burgundy, dark green and cream. The bold floral wallpaper was a dramatic backdrop for the mahogany furniture and cream satin comforter.

      Perhaps Wade preferred more modern decor, but this was an old house. With the exception of a few upgrades, it wore its age like a dowager who was well past her prime.

      Feeling like an innkeeper, Pauline removed a folding suitcase stand from the tall wardrobe and set it next to the wood-burning fireplace. Faced in Minton tile, the hearth was bare for the summer behind the brass screen.

      “Bathroom’s in there,” she indicated. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”

      If he expected maid service, too, he was headed for disappointment. This wasn’t a full-service rooming house, and she had neither the time nor the interest in pampering him.

      “Right now the carpet would probably seem comfortable,” he muttered, smothering a yawn.

      “I’ll bring you up some towels so you can get settled,” she said. She’d forgotten them earlier.

      His somber gaze softened into a smile, silver eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. His beard shadow gave him a rakish appearance. “Thanks again,” he said, dismissing her. “Perhaps we can talk more in the morning.”

      Pauline was already having major second thoughts about the situation, but it was too late now. She slid her hand into the pocket of her pants, her fingers touching the generous check he’d given her. The moment she had given in to her greed, he’d scrawled a rental agreement on the back of Wallingford’s worthless lease. Dolly, ever helpful, had offered to witness his and Pauline’s signatures.

      “I leave for work at nine,” she warned, aware of how small the bedroom seemed with both of them standing in it.

      “I’m sure I can manage to be up by then.” His grin displayed his even white teeth. If he had flaws, poor dental hygiene didn’t appear to be one of them.

      “Fine.” She was irritated to realize she had been staring for a millisecond too long—and that his smile had widened just enough for her to be sure he had noticed.

      Heat scorched her cheeks. “I’ll get those towels.”

      It had been several years since Wade had experienced the momentary disorientation from waking up in unfamiliar surroundings. The big difference this morning was that he was alone in the bed.

      He lay motionless, staring at the god-awful wallpaper with its blobs of color that reminded him all too clearly of a food fight back in his college frat house. Reality hit him with all the subtlety of the bright sunlight pouring through the drapes he’d forgotten to close before falling face-forward into bed. The last few months hadn’t been a bad dream after all.

      He was tempted to squeeze his eyes shut and pretend that he was back in his elegant condo, French doors open to the breeze from the bay and his wife cuddled up beside him.

      Ex-wife, he reminded himself, and good riddance to her. It was pointless to hang on to the fantasy of what his life had been; time instead to face the reality of what it had become.

      He sat up with a groan, squinting at the mirror-topped dresser on the other wall. “Toto, we’re not in San Francisco anymore,” he muttered wryly, rubbing a hand over his face. Automatically he reached for the expensive watch Sharon had given him, but then he remembered that he’d sold it to a friend for half its value.

      Flipping back the covers, he noticed an inexpensive clock radio next to a brass lamp with a fringed shade. If he was going to get downstairs before his landlady’s departure, he’d better get his butt in gear.

      He grabbed the shaving kit from his bag, stepped over his dirty clothes and stalked naked into the bathroom. Skidding to a stop, he stared at the old claw-foot monstrosity with disappointment. Tub baths were for kids and dogs.

      As he tossed his kit onto the sink counter, he noticed a roomy shower stall behind a glass-block wall.

      Hallelujah.

      After he allowed the spray head to pummel him awake, he showered and shaved in record time. When he was done, he dug old jeans and a CBGB T-shirt from his bag and shook out the wrinkles.

      Moments later he locked the door behind him as a clock from somewhere below chimed the quarter hour. Before he reached the landing, another door opened and out stepped Pauline, wearing a blue dress with a rounded neckline and matching sandals that showed off her long legs. Some kind of clip held back the top of her honey-blond hair, but the rest hung loose, barely brushing her shoulders. She carried a laptop and a purse.

      It

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